


Quite A Day

by orphan_account



Series: This Is It [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Character, Blind Jack, Charity Event, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Skate, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Teacher Jack, established relationships - Freeform, post- hockey Injury, retired jack, zimbits parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jack laughs again.  “Exactly.”  There’s another lull, and he starts to feel sleepy now as he counts the spaces between Eric’s breaths.  Then he says, “Thank you for loving me.”“Oh sweetheart,” Eric says, in that soft, affectionate way he always does.  The way that makes Jack’s head spin a little, and his toes tingle, and his arms tighten on Eric, afraid to let go.  “I remember the exact moment I knew I couldn’t do anything else but love you.”





	Quite A Day

**Author's Note:**

> Ages and Ages ago I promised a Zimbits sequel to my Patater fic where Kent hates his neighbour who plays opera at 6 am. So this is sort of it. It's set in the same universe, about a year after that fic.

Eric noticed it first. The gentle shake of fingers against his palm. They weren’t doing anything particularly stressful. The tail end of a long day, and the pair of them were propped up against the headboard, Jack’s laptop on his knees. His audible was reading out a book Eric told him to just put on the main speakers, since he wasn’t doing anything anyway. It was a historical fiction, and he’d lost track of the plot twenty minutes ago, but Jack seemed to be enjoying it.

Only now he wasn’t so sure.

He turned his head to see Jack’s cheeks mottled pink, his bottom lip in his mouth between his teeth hard enough—not to draw blood, but close. With a sigh, Eric turned Jack’s hand, opening his palm up, and used his first finger to press down and traced the lines there.

“You wanna talk about it, sweetpea?”

Jack hesitated, then reached out with his free hand and shut the laptop. “Not really.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Eric said, leaning his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Do you _need_ to talk about it?”

“Maybe.” After all these years, at least Jack didn’t try and lie to him anymore. It had never been malicious, but Jack had a way of trying to deflect his own emotional turmoil, and it never ended well when he did. Eric watched his husband squeeze his eyes shut, and let out a breath that had a slight tremble to it. “I’m nervous.”

Eric didn’t need to ask about what. “It’s going to be okay, you know. I mean, it’s nothing formal. And you don’t have to go to the skate.”

“I … it isn’t that, Bits,” Jack said. “Just…with them, this’ll be the first time I’m skating with them since the accident. And I’m not unsure of myself anymore, but I know they’re going to…I know what they’ll be thinking,” he amends halfway through his sentence.

Eric got it. It was impossible not to get it, because he and Jack went through it themselves right after Jack decided to get back on the ice. The feelings in Eric were overly complicated—wanting Jack to regain some of his own independence, knowing he was capable of it because it was Jack and of course he could still skate. But there was also fear because this was new, and even a seasoned NHL player who’d been skating since he could walk would have to re-learn how to keep himself steady, keep himself from falling, now that he was blind. And Eric couldn’t get rid of the fear which still wrapped itself round his throat, threatening to choke him, every time he remembered the hit. Every time he remembered watching Jack’s bucket fly off, and his head hit the ice, and him not get up.

Months, Jack had been in rehab. Months they waited round to see if Jack’s memory would improve, or his balance, or his vision.

And Eric supposed they were meant to be grateful only one of those three things didn’t right itself because it could have been all of it. Hell, Jack might not have ever woken up again. But he had, and then he wanted to skate again, and Eric had to check himself every damn time he wanted to mother-hen Jack and hold his hand and wrap him up in bubble wrap.

They’d fought about it. Jack yelling that Eric couldn’t spend the rest of his life doing everything for him, and Eric shouting back that Jack had no idea what it was like to watch the person he loved most in the world struggle.

Jack eventually breaking down and telling Eric the hell it was knowing that he would never see Eric’s face again.

Then dropping the biggest bomb on him of all. “If I could see, I wouldn’t be able to remember your face. That part of my visual memory was damaged and the doctor doesn’t think it’s coming back. So maybe this is better and maybe…” Jack hesitated, his voice cracking, “maybe you can have faith in me and let me do this.”

Eric had backed off. He’d stopped going with Jack to the rink. When they moved to Vegas, he let Kent take over that much, and it wasn’t until Jack was coaching blind youth hockey and playing with other blind teams during summers in Canada that he let himself relax and let himself accept that there wasn’t anything he could do if Jack got hurt again—but that his husband was working hard to ensure it wouldn’t happen again.

It was a tough road and they had to keep it together because they also had their daughter to raise, who hadn’t asked for any of this.

Luckily she’d been far too young to remember much before they had adapted.

This Jack, the one next to Eric a little nervous, but still brave and still himself, was the only Jack she’d ever known. And it made sense now why Jack hadn’t said anything at dinner when Olive had been bouncing in her seat with excitement over the charity event.

“Pépé and Mémé are gonna skate with us and maybe I can do some spins and a jump if I promise to be reeealllll careful, right daddy?”

Kent would be there too, and Alexei. But also most of Jack’s former team, and a lot of the old players Jack had grown up with. And it wasn’t that Jack had actively avoided them. They’d visited a few times when they’d head up to visit Bob and Alicia for holidays, but…well. He’d never been on the ice with them again, and in every conversation, apart from asking Jack how he was getting along, they’d avoided the topic.

After all, who wanted to talk about the disabling injury that ended your career.

Never mind Jack had won gold with Canada in the Paralympics the first year they’d added blind hockey to the games. Never mind Jack had single-handedly started an organisation with blind schools across both the US and Canada so the students there could learn the skill.

He was expanding with what he had, and he should be proud. And Eric knew he was but…

He also knew why Jack felt the way he felt.

Twisting their fingers together, he tugged Jack until the laptop was set aside, and they nestled under the covers together.

“Uhg, Bits, I’m still in my jeans,” Jack complained.

Eric giggled, pushing his nose against the side of Jack’s neck. “Give me five minutes, then I’ll allow you to get out and change.”

“Oh. You’ll allow it, eh?”

“Yes, Captain Canada,” Eric mumbled, pressing an open-mouth kiss to Jack’s pulse point.

Jack shivered, then said, “More like Canadian Daredevil, don’t you think?”

“Oh my god, you giant nerd,” Eric said, nudging Jack until he chuckled. “How do I love you this much?”

“Jury’s still out on that one, I think,” Jack said, just before he turned, cupped Eric’s face, and kissed him properly. They didn’t get too involved. Olive was still awake and would likely be bothering them within the next hour for whatever her ten-year-old, nightly crisis would be. But it was nice to exist this way, in a cocoon of blankets, like a shield against the rest of the world that made them feel overwhelmed, anxious, and afraid.

After a few minutes, Jack pulled away, scrubbing a hand over his face. The impromptu make-out session hadn’t done enough to distract him, and Eric realised they were going to have to talk this out if they were going to make any progress at all.

Rolling over, Eric got up and rummaged through their wardrobe for pyjamas. He found Jack’s favourite—well worn flannel that were years and years old, and he turned to his husband. “Incoming pyjama bottoms.”

Jack held out his hand, and Eric tossed them at his fingers. When they were dressed down, Eric smoothed out the duvet, and climbed on top, crossing his legs and letting his knees rest against Jack’s thighs. Jack looked contemplative, anxious, but better than he had been before.

“Do you want to cancel?”

“No,” Jack said.

“Skip the skating bit?”

After a longer pause, “No. No I…” He shrugged, dragging a hand through his hair before reaching out for Eric’s. Their fingers tangled again, and Jack tugged until Eric was curled into his side. When he spoke, it was right up against Eric’s temple, his nose buried in the soft, blonde cowlicks. “I want them not to dance round it. I want them to ask, if they want to ask. I don’t want them to act overly enthusiastic. I don’t…I don’t want to be…”

“Infantilised,” Eric supplied.

Jack let out a breath. “I don’t want a fucking participation trophy. I deserve better than that.”

“You do,” Eric said.

Jack’s eyes closed, squeezing shut, and his throat was thick like he was holding back tears. Eric understood it. Jack deserved better, and on his day to day life, he got it. On his day to day life, things were good—sometimes better than good, and sometimes worse, but it was life and it was theirs and it was fine.

But the few times their old friends from Samwell had come out, it had been stilted and awkward and a little too much. They hadn’t been there the way Eric had been, or Kent, really. They hadn’t seen the struggle, and they hadn’t seen Jack at his weakest or his strongest. Their Jack was a man who existed in their memory. Their hockey captain, their favourite NHL player. Jack, the blind high school hockey coach, was more of an abstract idea. And discomfort made everything so damn awkward.

“It’s only for a night. And I think,” Eric said slowly, “by the time we get to the skate, they’ll have spent enough time with you it won’t…well it might still be a thing, but it won’t be as much of a thing. Which…I guess is something, right?”

Jack’s chuckle was a little thick, but it was sweet and full of the affection he poured into the kiss he gave to his husband. They carried on like that, Jack’s hand cupping Eric’s face, Eric’s fingers curled in the front of Jack’s sleeping t-shirt, until the door creaked open and a small voice said, “Ew.”

Jack laughed, pulling away. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Olive huffed. Her hair had been put into French plaits on either side of her head to tame the curls, and she’d been rolling around on her pillows enough to frizz them near the top. Her pyjama top was buttoned wrong, and the bottoms she’d chosen—purple and green with a unicorn print—were at least three inches too high along her calf.

She looked sleepy and sweet, and as she climbed up on the bed, nestling between her parents, Eric was reminded of why they’d both fought so hard after everything.

“Mother’s Day is this Sunday,” she said.

Jack hummed. “I know. Mémé said you already called her about their flight.”

Olive was biting her bottom lip. “Mmhmm. Ouais… euh…mais…je pensais…about something else.”

“Okay,” Jack urged, tucking her close. His fingers toyed with one of her plaits.

“I don’t…I mean, okay in theory I have a mother, right? Who had me.”

Eric’s frown mirrored Jack’s. “Yes, sweetheart. But…”

“I’m…I don’t wish I had her,” Olive said in a rush, like suddenly she realised she might be hurting her parents’ feelings. “I guess I just…wondered.”

Jack’s hand wandered, behind Olive’s back, gripping at Eric’s arm as their way of sharing a look through touch. Eric shifted so he could squeeze back, then he took the lead. “You wanna know what we know about her?”

“Um. Yes? But if it would make you feel sad…”

“It won’t,” Jack said firmly. “She was very young, and very scared. She didn’t have a good relationship with her parents, not like dad and I do.”

“Oh,” Olive said softly.

“She tried to keep you for a little while, but it was hard. So she gave you to some people, who kept you safe, and then we met you,” Eric said, brushing his hand over her hair.

“Did you ever see a photo of her?” she asked.

“They didn’t have one,” Jack said. He shifted closer to her, and cupped her chin in his hand. “We got you right before my accident. So I remember everything about you. I remember this little dimple,” he poked her in the cheek, making her giggle. “And your curly hair, and that little dip in your chin,” he traced it with the edge of his finger. “And I think you probably got those things from her.”

Eric knew Jack was lying. Jack couldn’t remember anything visually from before his accident. Eric had spent hours upon hours describing everything Jack ever asked for, and none of it connected in his brain, none of those re-created those memories. But it allowed these moments, to make Olive smile, to connect with her.

“Do you think it’s bad I wonder about her, but not the um. D-dad?” she stumbled over the words, like she was unsure about giving that title to the anonymous man who helped bring her into the world.

Eric pressed a kiss to her head. “I don’t think any of it is bad, sweetheart. Whatever you want to know about, we’ll tell you. We never want to hide anything from you. And we’ll share everything we have about the people who brought you to us.”

Olive let out a tiny sigh, then looked over at Eric, then at Jack and frowned. “Papa. You’re sad.”

Jack startled, as he did every time he was confronted with how perceptive their child really was. He tensed, then relaxed and breathed out. “I’m nervous. About the charity dinner and the skate,” he said. He’d always been very open about his nerves and his anxiety with her. From the moment they adopted her, Jack had insisted he never hide it. Never appear ashamed. “I haven’t seen my old team in a long time.”

“Oh,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Well…but Uncle Kenny and Alexei are gonna be there so they’ll like…beat dudes up for you and stuff. If they say stuff. Bad stuff.”

Jack laughed. “They will.”

“Plus you could even beat them up. Your arms are still bigger than Uncle Kenny’s. He was talking to Alexei about it yesterday and he was jealous.”

Eric covered a snort-laugh with the back of his hand. “Oh my lord.”

“Then Alexei pushed him up onto the counter and kissed him, then he did this thing to Uncle Kenny’s neck that…”

“And that’s quite enough,” Eric said, giving her a push. “Time for bed, and I need to call your Uncle Kenny about appropriate places for Uncle Alexei to boost his ego.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled as she shuffled out of the bed. “You two make out all the time and it’s super gross. Besides they didn’t know I was there and Uncle Kenny was super embarrassed when he saw me so I’m pretty sure he won’t do it again. For like…maybe a whole month.”

Jack chuckled, and held out his arms for a hug. Olive jumped into them, then kissed his cheek. “I love you,” he said.

“Yeah. I mean ew. But I love you too. Forever. And I’ll beat guys up too. I’ll bring my figure skates and get them with my toe-picks. I’m going to be a bouncer when I’m in college.”

“Crisse,” Jack murmured. “We’re moving out of Vegas tomorrow.”

Eric grinned, kissing the top of Olive’s head. “Now get in bed. No tablet, no laptop. Sleep. I’ll be checking in ten minutes, you hear me?”

“Yeahhhh yeah yeah, jeeze,” she said as she went out, slamming the door hard.

Jack sighed, leaning back against Eric, and closed his eyes. “Well, that was at least distracting,” he said with a small laugh.

Eric snorted. “Yeah. Do you feel any better?”

Jack shrugged as he shuffled down so he could rest his head against Eric’s thigh. “Yes and no. It’s…something I have to confront, I know this. And it’ll be terrible until it’s over. Then it’ll be done.”

Eric pushed his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Then we can come home and start Olivia on bouncer training.”

Jack groaned, rolled to the side, and pushed his face against Eric’ leg. “She’s going to kill me.”

Eric laughed. “She is. But we knew that a long, long time ago.”

*** 

“…and now she’s charming Thirdy with one of her waltz jumps,” Eric murmured to Jack as they skated a slow circle round the perimeter of the rink. The dinner had gone alright, and Jack had relaxed after a while, enjoying his time with the guys he hadn’t seen in years.

Bob, as charismatic as he was, tended to capture the room, and it took the focus off Jack which was a big relief in itself. Once the awards and the auction was over, some of the guys headed to the arena for a family skate. Which was where they were now.

After showing off, Olivia was demanding that both Bob and Kent show the others the moves they’d helped her practise…most of the lifts not dangerous, even if Eric’s heart was in his throat the whole time.

“Remind me never to let your dad practise throws with her,” he murmured.

Jack laughed. “He wouldn’t anyway. After she broke her arm, he told me he almost hid her skates and told her they got stolen.”

Eric rolled his eyes, letting his fingers play against Jack’s as they neared Kent and Alexei who were loitering near the exit talking to a few of the newer Falcs Jack hadn’t played with.

“…and if I skate at Zimms, he’ll totally catch me,” Kent said loudly.

Knowing exactly what was about to happen, Eric disengaged with Jack just in time for Kent to barrel straight into Jack. It was a wobbling catch with a half spin, and Jack huffed, all-but throwing Kent back to the ice. 

“Next time I’m going to drop you.”

“You say that literally every time,” Kent said with a sniff as he wrapped an arm round Jack’s waist, “and never once have you.”

“I’m conditioning you to not believe me so when it happens, you won’t be prepared and you’ll bruise your ass so badly you won’t be able to sit for a week,” Jack said as he came to a stop near the wall.

“Rude. So fucking rude,” Kent said, elbowing Jack.

The rookies, seeming to sense they were listening in on a more intimate conversation, skated off. Alexei shifted up next to Eric, and Kent was still leant into Jack as they rested against the boards.

“All good?” Kent asked.

Jack shrugged. “Could be worse. It’s a little crowded, and it’s a little tough being the only blind guy on the ice but…it’s nice to catch up with everyone.”

“Meep Morp, hockey robot Zimms,” Kent chirped in a feigned mechanical voice. “Could you try to be a little more media?”

“Fuck off,” Jack said, then laughed when Eric shifted over into him. He nestled his back against Jack’s front, and smiled when warm arms came round his waist. “Hey,” he murmured into Bitty’s hair.

“Gross,” Kent said. “You two disgust me.”

Alexei laughed. “He saying this, but wanting kisses all the time. Anyone watching, he not care. Just want kissing.”

“I can’t help it, babe. Your lips got me hooked. Gotta get my sugar.”

“That was the worst,” Eric said. “The actual worst. Fined. Double fined, actually.”

Kent flipped him off, then declared loudly he was doing it for Jack’s benefit, “Giving your husband the finger, Zimms. He’s a dick.”

Jack shrugged. “Dunno. I kinda like him.”

“High praise,” Eric said dryly, but the words fell into a shudder as Jack kissed the side of his neck.

They were only interrupted by a small voice saying, “See Pépé, they’re always icky and smooching and I think that’s enough evidence that the court will let me live with you.”

Bob chuckled, being dragged by the hand by his granddaughter up to the group. “I think someone’s bored.”

“There’s too many little kids here,” Olive pouted. “I can’t do anything fun.”

“You’re spending a full month at Mémé and Pépé’s. You’ll have an entire rink to yourself,” Jack admonished. “I cannot believe you’re complaining now.”

Olive humphed until Kent grabbed her hand and twirled her through a series of spins, then yelled, “Race me!” and took off.

She laughed loudly and went after him, and Eric watched with a small grin before leaning back into Jack. “She’s going to crash so hard tonight.”

“Wasn’t that the plan? Besides, she’s going with my parents.”

Bob grinned. “You say that like we don’t want her every second we can get.”

“Only because you load her up with sugar and gifts and spoil her until she’s rotten,” Jack said, but he was grinning.

Alexei was watching, shaking his head, then sighed. “We thinking maybe we have one, you know? Kenny…he so happy when being with her. With you. Family,” he clarified.

Bob’s eyes went a little misty. “I’ve been begging for another grandchild.”

“Maybe you get soon,” Alexei said with a laugh. He laughed again, when Bob all-but tackled him into a hug.

*** 

Sometimes, when it was quiet, Jack tried to remember. It was a fool’s game, really. His occupational therapist had told him, during a moment of frustration, “You would have lost it anyway, Jack. Visual memory is the first thing to decay when you lose your sight. Everything would have been surreal, and abstract. I’m not saying you aren’t allowed to mourn what you lost, or want it back. I’m just saying that, maybe in this case, it would have been inevitable.”

Jack says he misses being able to see Eric sometimes, but that’s not really it. Because you can’t miss what you don’t know, and the hit he took to his head made it so everything he’d once seen, had been erased. What the feeling is, in reality, is a longing to experience Eric the way he had before.

Because he remembers the feeling. The stunned awe of looking at Eric’s bare chest, and the stretch of his body on the ice. He can’t see the images in his head, but he remembers the way his breath would catch when he’d walk into the room and find a smirking Eric lying on his bed, waiting for him after a long game.

And he has it now. It’s been so long, and in all honesty he’d trade any sense he possessed so long as it meant he got to keep his family. His husband. His daughter. His life. He loves teaching, he loves his students. He loves that in spite of the struggle when the accident first happened, there was a future and there was contentment and happiness and he didn’t _need_ the NHL to feel complete.

He accomplished everything the universe asked of him.

And there was pain, and there were sacrifices, but there’s joy too.

There’s this. The way Eric feels under his hands. And, he thinks to himself for just a minute, just before his lips descend over Eric’s warm chest in a way he knows is going to make Eric arch up into his hands and gasp—maybe…this is better.

Really, after all this years, he still can’t get enough of it. Of how he knows exactly where to drag his fingers, or apply his mouth to make his name fall from Eric’s lips like a waterfall. He knows where to push, and where to pull back, and where to give and where to take.

It’s perfection, he thinks sometimes, perfection he can mould with his hands into the shapes he needs to get himself through the day.

He turns his head and let’s Eric capture his mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. He loves the taste of him, the way the smell of him floods Jack’s nose and overwhelms his senses. He loves the feel of Eric’s fine hair between his fingers.

He can’t remember the look of it, but he knows that Eric’s hair is blonde, and the sun is a similar shade of yellow, and they both cause a sort of warmth to pour over him whenever he loses himself in those things. The way Eric’s hair drifts through his fingers, the way the sun falls on his face in the early afternoon.

So, in reality, he doesn’t feel like he’s missing much.

“Hey.”

Jack turns his head and smiles. “Hey.”

Eric’s fingers are restless against his hips, dragging through lines of stretchmarks Jack’s had since he could remember. They curve round Jack’s thicker thighs, dipping into the curves of his knee which is drawn up gently against Eric’s hip.

“Can’t sleep.” Eric’s voice is heavy, but awake, and Jack knows this trip has been a lot for the both of them.

“Mm. Even after all that?” he chirps.

Eric chuckles and leans in to bury his face against the side of Jack’s neck. “I guess I just have the better stamina here. It’s my curse.”

Jack snorts, and noses through the shorn sides of Eric’s hair. In his abstract way, he knows Eric used to have it longer, when they first met. He hadn’t been able to touch it then. Jack had still been drowning in insecurity and took it out on people in the worst ways. He can sort of imagine it now, though. Being able to twist shaggy strands round the tips of his fingers.

“How was it, really?” Eric asks after some silence.

Jack can’t help another laugh. “Better than I thought. I think my dad’s going to be riding the high of Kenny and Alexei having a kid for a while. Maybe he’ll stop with the new grandchild emails for a little while.”

“We can only hope,” Eric says, and Jack can feel the curve of his husband’s smile against his neck. “Do you ever think about it?”

“What? Having another kid?”

Eric shrugs against him. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“Well…I guess you do have the stamina for it,” Jack says, and he laughs when Eric swats him on the hip. After some silence, some readjusting so Jack can get his arms all the way round Eric, tucking him in close and tight, he sighs. “Sometimes I like the idea of it, and sometimes I like the idea that I can have this with you,” he pauses to kiss wherever he can reach, “and there’s no interruptions. No crying, no nappies or toilet training. No four am pacing the floor with a sick or inconsolable child. I love Olivia beyond all reason, but I’m also a selfish man, Bittle.”

Eric laughs and hums as he kisses along Jack’s collarbone. “I’m…” There’s a pause that makes Jack a little anxious, then Eric speaks again. “I’m glad you said that. I love babies, lord. You know this. But…we’ve been through so much and I’m just…hell I just want to let myself feel a little selfish with you and Olive, and not feel bad about it. Like I’m a bad person for not wanting more.”

Jack pulls back slightly, cups the side of Eric’s face with his hand. He loves the weight of Eric’s cheek against his palm, the way he can feel the curve of Eric’s lips against his thumb, the heat of a blush because even after all these years, Eric’s face still goes hot when Jack grins at him. He sighs, then leans in to nose against Eric’s, then kiss him.

“You’re the best person I know,” he murmurs to Eric. “I think what we have is perfect. And why mess with that.”

“I guess your dad will get over it,” Eric mutters against Jack’s mouth.

Jack laughs, sighing as he shakes his head and tucks Eric back against him. “Well if I know Kenny…and I do. Way too much about him for my own peace of mind…he and Alexei aren’t going to stop at one. So my dad will be plenty occupied with grandchildren for…a long time coming.”

“And we can get our fix, then go home to our nice quiet house with only one bundle of emo and hormones,” Eric says.

Jack laughs again. “Exactly.” There’s another lull, and he starts to feel sleepy now as he counts the spaces between Eric’s breaths. Then he says, “Thank you for loving me.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Eric says, in that soft, affectionate way he always does. The way that makes Jack’s head spin a little, and his toes tingle, and his arms tighten on Eric, afraid to let go. “I remember the exact moment I knew I couldn’t do anything else but love you.”

“Me in the kitchen, helping you make pie,” Jack murmurs. He doesn’t remember everything about that moment. It had taken him a little while to figure it out. But he remembers his own, with sharp, unyielding clarity. The way his dad’s words had all but clobbered him over the head. And the way he knew there was nothing else he could do _but_ kiss Eric. In that room, which stood for two years of regret that he didn’t get his shit together sooner. But it was all okay. In the end.

“You were standing there in the sun, makin’ a mess of that dang pie, and just talking. And I remember thinking…lord, this boy. This boy is going to be the death of me.” Eric sighs against him, and hugs a little tighter. “Ended up bein’ the opposite, didn’t it. You ended up being my life.”

“I’m okay with it,” Jack murmurs.

Eric laughs and nods against his chest. “Yeah, sweetpea. I sure am too.”

Jack lets his eyes close, not that it makes much difference—just a little darker now. But it doesn’t feel overwhelming. With Eric in his arms like this, with home just on the horizon, with his family a few doors down, he feels safe.

This is it for him.

This is it.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of stuff either finished or nearly finished that I'm going to be posting over the next week or so. A lot of it is Nursey/Rans or Nursey/Chowder, a few Zimbits, and then some stuff for other fandoms (star wars/harry potter/captive prince). After which my fanficcing will be taking a huge hiatus since I'm going back to Uni for a second MA because apparently that's a thing you do once your kids are old enough that they're nearly Uni age themselves, and you're thinking about a career change, haha. Anyway.......
> 
> Hope you liked the fic. x


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